Lost Puppy
by Dentelle-noir
Summary: Trowa was convinced that he hated that STUPID dog. Quatre thought he was so brilliant in buying it, but no. Quatre was not always right. Trowa hated that dog.  AU. 3x4 slice of life. Fluff!


**Lost Puppy**

_By: dentelle_noir_

For Gnome_commander. I've owed her a fluffy happy fic for a long, long time! I hope she enjoys it!

**Summary:** Trowa was convinced that he hated that STUPID dog. Quatre thought he was so brilliant in buying it, but no. Quatre was not always right. Trowa hated that dog.

**Lost Puppy**

Trowa was convinced that he hated that dog.

Even though it was so cute, the way it looked up at Trowa with such big, innocent eyes...

Surrounded in a sea of ripped-up toilet paper, garbage, and food splayed everywhere. The cat was missing. God knows what the stupid dog did to his beloved orange tabby.

Trowa only had so much time to do things around the house, and Quatre wanted to meet him for dinner tonight. Trowa generally worked from home, so he could do a lot of the upkeep, but this dog was just too damn much!

"BAD DOG" Trowa scolded, looking at it.

The puppy just wagged its cute little tail. It's sandy brown fur was splotted with coffee grounds and who knows what other muck from the garbage. Its name was "Sandy". Quat thought that was cute, sounded like Sandrock. Quatre had been in love with it right from first site. It was a rescue dog, and that made Quatre love it even more.

Even the vet's warnings: "It has worms" and "He isn't house trained" didn't stop Quatre. He loved it even more for it. And Trowa had to clean up after it more.

But Quatre just Loooooved the stupid rescue dog and Trowa would really have rathered have some quiet time to himself instead of cleaning up after the animal. And walk it. And train it. And clean up after it.

Quatre's only job was to love it. And since Quatre was doing that, Trowa figured he was safe in not having to do THAT. Quatre thought he was so right in buying the dog. Quatre thought that Trowa would adore the dog. But he was wrong.

Trowa was convinced that he hated that dog.

Right up until he yelled "BAD DOG" again, and the dog's ears fell back and he brought his muzzle down to the floor, looking repentant.

Trowa wasn't taking any of THAT, though. No way! The place was a wreck! He had only left the mutt alone for MAYBE ten minutes while he walked down the incredibly long driveway to retrieve the mail. This was unacceptable!

Trowa reached over and grabbed the dog, picking him up, and he put him outside into the back yard and closed the door behind him.

He heard the puppy's claws scratching on the door to be let back in, but he wasn't having any of that crap. He had enough to clean up without worrying about the stupid mutt. And he only had a few minutes until he was supposed to be leaving to meet Quatre.

Finally, after he cleaned up the grounds, and the mess, and kitchen, and replaced the toilet paper with a fresh roll, and after he cleaned up the shampoo that was knocked all over the floor and made him slip when he got in there, AFTER all of that he went to the back door to open it and let the stupid mutt in. He was convinced that he hated that dog.

But where was that dog?

Stupid dog was off somewhere in the massive backyard.

Trowa walked outside, putting his fingers to his mouth and whistled. "SANDY!" He hollered, and made that sharp 'get over here' whistle again.

No Sandy.

That stupid dog was going to make him look all over for him! And be late for dinner with Quatre! Quatre hated it when he was late.

Trowa walked out into the back and began to give a good look around, "here doggy-doggy doggy. Come to daddy so he can strangle you," he grunted out through clenched teeth.

Still no sandy.

Now, Trowa was starting to get worried.

"SANDY!" He hollered again. The fact that he was supposed to be at the restaurant to meet Quatre didn't even register. He moved out into the back and began to look.

He moved some shrubs, looked behind the swing set that he and Quatre drank coffee on during those lazy Sunday mornings. Still no Sandy.

He climbed out back to the shed, and slid his lanky body behind it to look, getting covered in dirt and grime from head to toe in his dinner clothes. No sandy.

Back out, he began to get more worried. "SANDY!" He hollered louder, "Come here... I'm sorry I yelled at you, come here?" he tried (feeling a little foolish for talking to the air, but did it anyway).

Still no Sandy.

He went back inside and looked for a flashlight. The sun was starting to go down again, and Sandy was just a tiny little thing! There were big animals out there and he needed to make sure the little thing was safe!

He opened the back door and went out, flicking the light into the dark corners by the pond feature, "Sandy? Saandy?" he called out.

Then he heard it. A whimper.

Trowa turned towards the sound, "Sandy?"

The whimper came again, and then he heard some rustling in the bush behind the pond.

Trowa crawled back there, and flicked the light on.

There was Sandy, lying on his belly with his front paw stuck out weirdly. He was caught in something... And bleeding.

"Jesus, you stupid dog, what did you do?" He grunted, kneeling down and finding him caught. It seemed the automatic sprinkler head had caught into some kind of garbage and pulled it into something like a snare. And poor Sandy had managed to get caught in it. He had been trying to get his paw out for a while, if the bleeding from where the plastic had put into his fur was any indication.

The puppy looked up at Trowa with the biggest, most desperate eyes he had ever seen.

Trowa grabbed at the sprinkler head and yanked, hearing it make a snap as he broke it. Oh well.

The snare let go, and Sandy tugged his paw away, shaking it to get the plastic off.

The puppy stood, holding his paw up as if he was pretending it didn't hurt.

Trowa snorted, looking at the dog and reaching out to pet him, "You're just like Quatre, you stupid dog. Pretending not to be hurt when you're bleeding all over the place."

Trowa picked the tiny golden puppy up by the middle, cradling him gently, holding the paw up. Trowa knew enough about animals and treating his own war wounds to be able to take care of this. He brought Sandy into the bathroom and washed the cut out, then held the squirmy little thing as he dabbed on antiseptic before bandaging his paw.

Trowa took Sandy back to the living room, sitting down on the couch and holding him in his lap, petting him to calm down, and making sure he didn't lick the wound.

A few minutes later his cat showed up, the pretty orange tabby walked up to Sandy and then laid against him as if to give reassurance to the dog that it would be better and that Trowa would take care of him.

A little laugh came from behind them, and Trowa turned.

Quatre was standing there, an amused smirk on his face. He walked a little ways away and then came back, holding out his camera and took a snapshot.

"I'm sorry I stood you up, baby! Sandy got lost, and-" Trowa started

Quatre just grinned, laughing. "I figured something came up when you didn't answer your phone. I brought home take-out."

Trowa smiled warmly, and leaned out just a little to give Quatre a kiss. He didn't want to move too much and disturb Sandy, cuddled in his lap with his cat.

Quatre laughed, standing to get plates, and then dishing out the food for them. "You know what?" He said, moving to share the couch with the rest of his little family. Quatre watched Trowa and Sandy, seeing the worry in his husband's eyes and the way he couldn't stop petting the little lost puppy.

Quatre grinned mischievously, "Say what you want, Trowa. But I'm convinced that you love that dog."

Trowa looked down... And sighed. Quatre was right. Quatre was always right.


End file.
